


How You Turn My World

by autumnangelwrites



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anxiety, College Student Yuuri, Fae Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Panic Attacks, Prince Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnangelwrites/pseuds/autumnangelwrites
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is just trying to finish out his senior year of undergrad. However, when he chooses the wrong poem for his Mythology 101 final, his plans of a normal graduation fly right out of the window.A story of adventure, magic, and royal politics, with a little love thrown in along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

It started with a day like any other. Classes started bright and early at eight a.m., Detroit continued to do its very best to freeze its inhabitants to death, and Yuuri Katsuki was--as per usual--freaking the fuck out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mari told him gruffly, obviously puffing away on a cigarette.

“We’re proud of you, no matter what,” his mother reassured, gentle and knowing.

“You’ve always been a good student,” Yuuko told him, sweet and sincere as her triplets screeched in the background.

“Finish strong! Don’t let all that money go to waste!” His father’s contribution.

“Don’t screw up!” Takeshi.

“If you stress eat, you’ll get fat!” Minako.

“What were we talking about again, dear?” A random patron of his parents’ onsen.

Really, with such a strong support system, how could he fail?

Oh yeah. _Easily._

It was Phichit that finally talked him down, just after nearly braining himself on the kitchen counter thanks to Yuuri’s impromptu blanket nest in the middle of the living room floor.

“It’s just a project, Yuuri,” he said calmly, brushing off his near-death experience with ease. “Don’t let yourself get so worked up!”

A groan warbled its way out of the pile of blankets. Phichit gave the bundle a light pat.

“It’s not _just_ a project, Phichit,” Yuuri finally managed, sitting up with a huff and trying in vain to smooth down his hair. His roommate reached forward and straightened his glasses for him, expression unfazed. “It’s my _final._ Worth twenty percent of my grade, which I _need_ to pass this class with an A.”

Phichit gave a thoughtful hum at the new information, causing Yuuri to flop down once more. This time, the Thai boy joined him, legs tangling with a furry lime green throw.

“We’re graduating next Saturday and you’ve already been accepted to the grad school of your choice. You’ve confirmed both your seat and your scholarship as of last month. Yuuri, there isn’t even a correlation between Mythology 101 and sports medicine! There’s literally nothing a bombed final exam can do to you at this point.”

Phichit was right. Yuuri knew he was right; everything for his master’s degree in sports medicine had been locked down months ago. He had even signed the lease for his new apartment already! Still, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel like this exam had some sort of dire importance. He didn’t _want_ to fail his last exam. What if his grad school saw his final transcript and suddenly decided he wasn’t qualified for their program anymore? What if his professor wrote to the scholarship board and said such bad things that the institution revoked the offer? What if he got to graduation and the dean flat out refused to hand over his diploma because he had completely bombed an intro course in his last semester?

“Yuuri.” Phichit’s voice was calm but firm, and it broke through the downward spiral that was Yuuri’s usual thought process. “I can _see_ you worrying, and I can practically guarantee that none of the things you’re imagining are going to happen. You _are_ going to graduate, you _are_ going to go on to grad school, and your parents _aren’t_ going to be upset with you.”

Fuck. He hadn’t even considered the thing about his parents.

Phichit sighed.

“Okay, new plan.” The other boy suddenly lunged across Yuuri, snatching up one of the old, dusty tomes surrounding the blanket nest. “What do you have to do for this project again?”

“A recitation of a pre-approved mythological work that we haven’t studied in class,” Yuuri recited back tonelessly. “It has to be twenty lines in length, and the whole selection must be memorized.”

“And you aren’t just googling a passage because?”

“It has to be from a print source. No internet excerpts, preferably from a text in our library so she can check the source easily.”

“And you have to recite it when?”

“A week from Friday.”

Phichit’s expression melted into something much more sympathetic.

“And she just passed out the assignment today?”

Yuuri nods wearily, then drops his face into a nearby pillow and attempts to smother himself with it.

“On top of three test reviews and a final project for my physics class. Next week is going to be _hell._ ” The pillow muffled the words a bit, but there’s no mistaking the pure misery in the Japanese boy’s voice.

Phichit flips the old text open. “That’s rough, buddy.” He pauses for a moment, studying the first page, then begins to flip a bit faster. “Yuuri, what language even is this?”

Yuuri rises once again, his face now dark red and creased, to squint a the symbols tilted toward him.

“Greek, maybe? Something sufficiently foreign. We get extra-credit if we attempt something outside of English. Something about the language being too young to really grasp the mythological roots.” Yuuri sighed. “I thought about using a Japanese selection, but my professor was very adamant about challenging myself. _Or else._ ”

Phichit groaned. “Why are you even taking this class?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that question, but Phichit knew him too well to buy Yuuri’s usual excuses. The truth was silly and simple: Yuuri was homesick. He’d spent four years abroad to earn his bachelor's degree, and he was facing another three away at the very least, assuming that he didn’t get a permanent position in the States after graduation. He had needed something more than grainy Skype calls and staticy voicemails to hold onto his heritage. As stupid as it sounded, the Japanese were a superstitious bunch, and even though this mythology course was a bit of a hodgepodge of cultural beliefs, Yuuri had hoped that the Asian unit would scratch the itch for something familiar in a way that katsudon couldn’t seem to manage anymore.

Not that he would tell Phichit that, of course. His best friend could probably sympathize, being a foreign student as well, but Yuuri’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at the mere thought of the heart-to-heart that would undoubtedly take place after his confession. Phichit was well-acquainted with his roommate’s moods, and he allowed the question to turn into something rhetorical rather than pressing for an answer, keeping the silence comfortable by filling it with loud flicks of old pages.

“How badly do you need the extra credit?” He asked, a few minutes later.

“It probably wouldn’t hurt.” Especially since he’d mixed up Odysseus and Oedipus on his last exam.

Phichit leveled his friend with a very serious look, probably evaluating Yuuri’s sincerity. As a result, Yuuri tried to look as sincere as possible, and he had thought he was doing a pretty good job of it until Phichit slammed the book closed.

“Um--”

Before Yuuri could even articulate his protest, Phichit had the book reopened and his eyes tightly closed, a finger jabbed towards the middle of the randomly selected page. Phichit’s eyes flickered open again, and he quickly skimmed the page before grinning to himself and shoving the book at Yuuri.

“This one.” Yuuri stared at the selected passage dubiously before locking eyes with his friend.

“Phichit."

“Hmm?”

“Phichit, I have to _recite_ this.” Yuuri gestured at the monstrosity in front of him. “I can’t even _read this_.”

“Minor details.” At Yuuri’s flabbergasted look, Phichit rolled his eyes. “Look, your professor said you couldn’t use the internet to _find_ your selection. She never said that you could use it to figure out pronunciation. Of course, if you _want_ to flip your way through every book in the living room…”

Yuuri really didn’t. He’d already fended off one panic attack today, and the mere idea of flipping through page after page of indecipherable text was miserable enough that his eyes watered a little. Phichit took Yuuri’s silence as acceptance, giving a quiet whoop and snapping a picture to text to Yuuri’s phone. As soon as Yuuri’s notification dinged, Phichit snatched up _his_ phone as well, saving the picture and sending it to his mythology professor for approval before Yuuri could gather the strength to protest.

“Now,” the Thai boy said, clapping his hands together and resolutely ignoring Yuuri’s look of horror, “I think it’s time for _The King and the Skater,_ don’t you?”

* * *

For better or for worse, Yuuri’s professor loved the piece. She applauded Yuuri’s choice--which was a surprise, considering her usual severe mannerisms--both for the difficulty and the obscurity. Ironically, both of those characteristics were exactly why Yuuri was regretting his choice. The poem was apparently Russian, according to Google Translate, and the guttural syllables were turning out to be much harder to master than either Japanese or English. Furthermore, it was in a sort of dialect that had faded into disuse _centuries_ ago, and the obscurity of the poem had made it impossible to find any recordings of the work. He was tempted to ask for another piece, but he was bad with confrontation at the best of times, and his professor’s characteristic surliness and _un_ characteristic enthusiasm had stopped him before he could even type out a generic greeting in the email.

A small, selfish part of him wanted to be mad at Phichit for choosing the piece, but even that was difficult. Despite having his own finals, Yuuri’s roommate had taken time to scout out resources of his own and help Yuuri painfully piece this unintelligible slew of symbols into something that might earn him a passable grade. He’d even given up several hours of rest to patiently recite the piece with Yuuri, until the Japanese boy felt semi-confident about the memorization and rhythm. With as many hours as they had spent pouring over the selection, Yuuri wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Phichit was able to recite the damn thing right alongside him on the day of his oral presentation.

It was just past two in the morning when the panic finally set in. Yuuri was sitting cross-legged in a raggedy lawn chair, squeezed into the corner of their minuscule balcony, and enjoying the frigid wind that night had to offer. His notebook sat in his lap, illuminated by the weak overhead light, but Yuuri had long since abandoned his work in favor of staring into the depths of flickering streetlamp one block over. Phichit had given up and gone to bed over two hours ago, but Yuuri hadn’t been able to brush off his test anxiety long enough to really feel the pull of sleep. He would undoubtedly regret his decision tomorrow, as he made his way to his professor’s office with an ache-y head and itchy eyes, but at the moment he was letting himself enjoy the chill of the night around him.

Initially, Yuuri had tried to use his time productively. He’d settled himself on the living room couch with a hot cup of tea and his excerpt, intent on reviewing the poem just a few more times before settling into bed. That, however, turned out to be an exercise in frustration; no matter how many times Yuuri practiced, the language felt clunky and awkward and _wrong_ on his tongue. Despite his lack of resources, Yuuri _knew_ he was messing something up; there was none of the natural rhythm he had come to associate with the mythological passages, and something in him balked at the subsequent butchering of the phrases.

As always, frustration turned to panic. After the fifteenth attempt, Yuuri’s skin was starting to itch, suddenly feeling bizarrely tight, and his breath was beginning to catch. Tears threatened to spill as he was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that everything was very much too hot, too tight, too bright. Thus, Yuuri’s late night foray with the lawn chair and the streetlamp.

“One more time,” he promised himself, wringing his hands in a desperate attempt to warm them. One more time, then he could crawl into bed and try to sleep. Yuuri took a deep breath, then tossed his notebook to the ground in an impromptu fit of confidence. Bits and pieces of the numerous pronunciation videos he’d lived and breathed for the last week all swirled around in his head, a thunderous jumble of foreign syllables.

_Королева короля Почета_

_Когда вы инвестируете в вашей стране, конкуренция._

_Я признаю,_

_В отличие от смерти._

_В случае с Сирией, я дам моей руке назначения ребенка._

_Я обещаю быть верным королевстве._

_Я обещаю, все напряжение._

_Ответственный за короля и_

_Информационная безопасность_

_Согласно традициям жителей._

_Проблема борьбы_

_И он показал мне причину милость ко мне_

_Эти вещи до конца._

_Я обещаю, чтобы поддержать его пробную версию_

_Она должна быть,_

_Джо, моя сила, и состояние окружающей среды._

_Для того, чтобы сохранить целостность всех царских обещаний, и если, несмотря на силу,_

_И это процветать._

_Он пообещал следить за этим процессом._

_Спасибо, ваш покорный слуга._

The effect was immediate; the words that used to catch and stutter on his tongue were smooth and warm. Once the last buttery syllable rolled off his tongue, Yuuri grinned. He _knew_ he’d gotten it right this time, despite never hearing a complete recitation of the selection before. His body was reacting to it in the sort of pure, unhindered way that a person only felt when they had done something unequivocally _right,_ and the buzzing of his tongue only confirmed it. Yuuri luxuriated in the feeling, unused to such a complete and utter confidence in any of his actions, and the warmth spread from the tip of his tongue to the pit of his stomach, radiating out to his extremities and making him feel light with glee.

Phichit had been right to choose this one.

At least, that’s what Yuuri had thought for the first few seconds. Then the tingling began to intensify.

What had started as a pleasant buzz had grown into an uncomfortable heat. It was undeniably a phantom sensation--Yuuri was looking directly at his hands, he _knew_ this was all in his head--but the gentle vibrations that had comforted him a mere minute ago had turned harsh and sharp like sandpaper, grating against his skin. The tightness from earlier that evening returned with a vengeance, but this time Yuuri was quite sure that it was no panic attack. Something was pushing and pulling, white hot pinpricks of pain accompanying the sensation, every organ pulsating with the phantom tugging. Yuuri tried to suck in some air, tried to stave off the sensations just as he would stave off an anxiety attack, but the air caught in his throat and he choked. He grasped at his neck, blunt nails digging into the smooth skin in a desperate attempt to puncture the pressure, but every inhale had turned into a bizarre gag-wheeze, and Yuuri’s vision was tunneling. Tears streamed down his cheeks, products of panic and pain, and he thrashed in a last-ditch effort to escape an attack he couldn’t begin to comprehend. A sharp pain resonated from the back of his head, and Yuuri blacked out before he even felt the ground.

* * *

Far, far away, wrapped in silken bed sheets and kept warm by a luxurious, a silver-haired prince jerked awake. Sleep quickly faded as he registered the energy pulsating within his kingdom. A smile, small and sinister, spread across his lips as he released what had changed 

Finally.

Let the games begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> 1\. If I dragged any of you guys over from the Batman fandom, I sincerely apologize. This is the abyss I have fallen into. 
> 
> 2\. I know the Russian is nonsense. It's supposed to be nonsense. What's the fun of giving away the plot twists in the first chapter? Good luck trying to figure out the English version of Yuuri's poem, I fed it into Google Translate about twenty times. 
> 
> 3\. I actually planned a story out from start to finish! I'm aiming for weekly updates, but life is busy so it might be every two weeks. Rest assured, though, there is actually an ending planned for this one! 
> 
> So this style of writing--and the genre in general--is incredibly different from what I usually do, and I'm not very comfortable with it yet. Any concrit would be appreciated. If you want to yell at me about plotlines or updates, feel free to message me here or on [my Tumblr! ](http://autumnangelwrites.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri woke slowly, bright sunlight warming his closed eyes and a quiet chittering in his ear. His body was stiff and awkwardly propped against something hard, held in an incredibly painful half-reclined position that he was half-convinced his muscles had frozen into. A tightness around the corners of his mouth, accompanied by a sandpaper tongue, all but assured him that he had drooled in his sleep, but his attempt to brush the crust away was sluggish and ineffective. The wind rustled through his hair, a faint _shush_ of leaves the only thing breaking through the comfortable quiet of the morning.  

Wait.

_SHIT._

Yuuri jerked up with a loud yelp. His back immediately seized with the sudden motion, and he fell painfully against the hard support behind him before scrambling up once more. The chittering in his ear had morphed into a much more affronted squawk, but Yuuri was too busy doubling over with the delayed wave of crippling, tear-inducing _pain_ that his quick action had brought to check the source. Hunched over, temples throbbing, and eyes streaming, Yuuri frantically scanned the skies for any sort of clue as to the time. His exam was supposed to be at eight, he had definitely set his alarm to ring before the sun came up, hewasso _so_ **_late_ ** \--

He froze. He wasn’t in his apartment.

Yuuri squinted, carefully twisting his head left and right to scan his surroundings. Even blurry and indiscernible--due to his lack of glasses, of _course_ he had lost them the minute he needed them most--Yuuri was certain that this wasn’t his student apartment. For one thing, he seemed to be in some kind of courtyard. For another, he was fairly sure that he’d never seen the stone walls surrounding him--easily four times his size--in his life.

It was a wonder that the sun was even visible, really.

Yuuri slumped back down, back once again resting against the base of the nearest wall. It was solid and cool against him, which did little to reassure him. Yuuri had never been a very vivid dreamer. Even in the throes of his worst fever dreams, he’d never been able to _feel_ his surroundings. Curious, he brought a hand to his lap and mercilessly pinched a lingering bit of pudge on his thigh. Pain, bright and sharp, was immediate. His hand drifted down to rest on the soft, plush grass beneath him instead.

_Okay Yuuri, deep breaths._

**_Deep. Breathes._ **

So he wasn’t asleep, and he wasn’t at home. That was… not ideal, but he could puzzle it out. It probably wasn’t Phichit. The Thai man had an odd sense of humor, but he wasn’t nearly cruel enough to do something like this, particularly when he’d know that something like this would kickstart Yuuri’s anxiety like a match to a fuel line. Besides, Phichit wouldn’t dare risk Yuuri’s GPA, not after spending half the night helping him study and talking Yuuri down from tears multiple times throughout the week.

Plus, if Phichit had any part in this, Yuuri likely would have already seen something posted on Twitter. Phichit never went anywhere without his--

_You idiot. A_ **_phone._ **

Yuuri pushed himself up again, going onto all fours skimming his hands through the half-rotted leaves and heavily perfumed flowers surrounding him. It took a moment, and Yuuri was almost positive he’d left it in the apartment after all, but just before he gave up the search completely, his fingertips brushed over smooth glass.

His sigh of relief was embarrassingly loud.

Still a little frantic, Yuuri jabbed at the home button impatiently and waited for his screen to light up. It seemed to take an eternity to flicker on, but eventually a picture of his dearly departed toy poodle eagerly greeted him. Too frazzled to even feel the usual stab of pain the picture brought, Yuuri immediately locked his gaze on the white, bubbly numbers at the top of the screen.

11:59.

_Shit._

Yuuri dropped back to the ground, knees to his chest and tears welling in his eyes. All of that stress and he’d _missed the damn exam._ He didn’t even have the godforsaken poem to blame! He was almost fluent in the damn thing at this point, and he didn’t even get the chance to present it before he failed! Hot tears slid down his cheeks and his breathing caught, making Yuuri feel even worse.

God, he was pathetic.

After of few minutes of messy crying, Yuuri was left with wet cheeks, ache-y eyes, and a numbing sense of desolation. The exam had already been failed, but the fact remained that Yuuri had still had no idea where he was. Sluggishly, he tapped his phone’s home button once more, mentally preparing himself to call Phichit. Vicchan beamed up at him once more.

2:02.

...What?

Yuuri touched his puffy eyelids gently. He hadn’t cried for that long, had he? He locked the phone and tried again.

3:05.

12:37.

6:14.

Unrecognizable symbols, rapid screen flickers, and an unresponsive black screen 

...Well, calling Phichit was out.

“Crying already?”

For the second time, Yuuri found himself scrambling to stand. This time, he managed to get himself upright on the first try. It was fortunate, too; he was no longer alone in the courtyard. From his standpoint, he couldn’t see much more than a fairly tall blur with shiny silver hair. His tone was what really captured Yuuri’s attention; he had never been on the receiving end of such a playful, seductive tone.

“Oh darling, the fun hasn’t even started yet.”

The blur moved closer. So close, in fact, that Yuuri could suddenly make out the other person’s features even without his glasses.  The man--if Yuuri was right in assuming that the beautiful, lithe creature in front of him _was_ a man--was devastatingly attractive, much to Yuuri’s disdain. His face was all sharp angles and aristocratic features, a flawless porcelain with two of the bluest eyes the Japanese man had ever seen. The silver hair was long and silky, with bangs brushing softly over his right eye and softly framing the face and the rest of the strands loosely tied back into a low ponytail. Yuuri was suddenly acutely aware of his dark eye circles, splotchy red complexion, and bedraggled appearance. He had crawled into his comfort clothes before buckling down to study the previous night, and the stretched out sweatpants and buttery soft tee itched against his skin as he took in the well-tailored, brightly colored garments of the man before him.

Then he registered what the man had said.

“W-what?” What fun? There wasn’t supposed to be any sort of fun! Yuuri just wanted his glasses and his blanket nest, where he could sob out his failures without judgement. The man in front of him, now chuckling darkly, did not seem to be inclined to give him either of those.

“No need to play coy now, darling. You’ve already gotten yourself here, after all.”

Yuuri continued to stare at the man blankly. He didn’t seem inclined to explain any further, but he was studying Yuuri with the sort of casual dismissal that set the shorter man on edge.

“You’re not going to last very long, are you?” The insult was blase, said so casually that it took a moment for Yuuri to realize he was being insulted. He was out of Yuuri’s personal space before Yuuri could even begin to bristle up. There was a cruel twist to his lips now, clear even through the fuzziness of Yuuri’s poor vision. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

And with that, he was gone.

Yuuri blinked at the empty space, eyes no longer misty. Then he blinked again, forcing his eyes to shut a bit harder, before opening them again. Still nothing. At a loss, he pulled out his phone again and mashed the home button. Still dead.

“What is going _on_ today?” Yuuri demanded of the empty courtyard, beyond confused.

The moment of sulking had been thoroughly ruined by his impromptu guest, and Yuuri was hesitant to sit back down, half-afraid that he would reappear. Fueled by the prospect of another unwelcome, unwanted encounter, Yuuri pushed himself off the wall with the intent of moving to a slightly more hidden spot. The motion was immediately met with an ominous crack.

Well, at least he had found his glasses.

They perched crookedly on his nose, the right lense sporting a large, ugly crack, but the damage was soon forgotten as Yuuri took in his surroundings.

The whole area was beautiful. Soft, springy grass was littered with a mix of bright flowers and multicolored leaves, a bizarre mix of spring and fall clustered together. Dark, solid, willowy trees littered the area, their branches thin and flexible, drooping under the weight of their colorful foliage. Though it was clear that Yuuri’s violent waking had startled much of the wildlife around him, one or two brave birds had wandered out to peck at the ground nearby. They were a species he wasn’t familiar with, with bright gleaming golds and soft pastels streaked through their feathers. Their beaks were sharp and long, but their eyes were large enough to soften any of the threat they presented. Yuuri stared at them for several minutes before snapping himself out of the trace.

The ground gleamed, and, intrigued, Yuuri moved forward to investigate. The birds eyed him warily as he shifted position, but seemed content to stay where they were. Upon closer inspection, the shiny objects were _everywhere;_ they littered the trees rested on flowers, and dispersed themselves through the grass. They were also _moving._ Several of the glittering objects had attached themselves to Yuuri’s jeans, and one had managed to crawl up his finger before he realized it was an insect. With a small shriek, he quickly brushed the bugs off of him, leery of the small creatures and their potentially poisonous nature. Suddenly very eager to leave, Yuuri scanned the walls surrounding him for the first time. Dark green ivy covered the stone so thickly that it took a few moments to realize….

There was no door.

Well, this situation had just gotten about a million times worse.

Taking yet another deep breath, Yuuri calmed himself down. He didn’t see any sort of doorway around him, but even with his glasses on, he wasn’t able to see the far wall. It was very likely that the door was across the courtyard. He could do this. He could definitely do this.

Hesitantly, Yuuri took a step forward, taking care to avoid the glimmers on the ground. Other than a few curious glances from the birds, there was no change in his surroundings; no men popped out of thin air, no animes leapt to attack, no bugs swarmed him. Yuuri wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. Nonetheless, Yuuri didn’t have much else to do than pick his way to the far wall despite his unease. It was just as solid and inaccessible as the one that he had just left.

“Hmm.” Theoretically, Yuuri should be freaking out right now. He was in an unknown place, with no knowledge of how he got there, with no means of contacting anyone to come get him and with no obvious means of escape at his disposal. Curiously enough, the only thing Yuuri really felt at the moment was the aching of his temples and the pull of fatigue. He’d already come down from two attacks, coupled with a fairly restless night and the stress of a new place, and all he really wanted to do was leave. He regarded the wall carefully, oddly sure that this specific spot held the answer to his problems.

The wall remained stubbornly solid.

Yuuri sighed.

“I don’t suppose you’d open if I asked nicely, would you?” he asked tiredly.

The wall shuddered.

Yuuri blinked, suddenly wide awake. The wall was completely solid once more. Yuuri reached up a hand and dug under the ivy to make sure. It was silly to even think otherwise, but.. Well, it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing he’d seen today.

With that thought in mind, Yuuri squared his shoulders and gave the stone in front of him a steely glare. His face heated with premature embarrassment, and he silently thanked whatever deity out there that there were only a few odd looking peacocks to witness his posturing before taking a deep breath.

“Open up!” he demanded, voice far more confident than he felt at the moment.

Nothing.

“Open sesame?”

Still nothing.

Feeling supremely stupid, Yuuri took a step closer to the stone and rapped his knuckles against it smartly. Immediately, a shower of pebbles rained down on him.

“Ow!” he protested, arms raising immediately to cover his face. He stumbled blindly, covering under the meager shelter his arms provided, but the shower had already stopped. He hesitantly peeked out to make sure the skies were clear, then glared moodily at the wall as he lowered his arms, oddly sure that it had done that on purpose.

“Will you just open, please?!”

The section of stone in front of him shuddered again, then began to roll in on itself. Yuuri watched on in fascination, feeling a bit like Harry Potter being introduced to Diagon Alley. The wider the gap became, the further Yuuri’s jaw dropped. Once the shifting had stopped, Yuuri was staring up at an large, elaborate archway. His position only afforded him a glimpse of the inside, but it was enough; the same gray stone that blocked him into the courtyard was now about ten feet ahead of him, across a dirt path. Yuuri eyed it with trepidation.

He wasn’t an idiot; logically, going through the magical archway was the only way out of this godforsaken fever fantasy he’d locked himself into. Still, Yuuri turned and took a long look at the bright, colorful garden behind him, weighing his options. At last, he turned back to the dark, ominous path before him, the urge to move forward stronger than his anxiety. With a gusty sigh and the deep-seated knowledge that he was more than likely screwing himself over somehow, Yuuri took a step forward into the dark, dank corridor that had recently revealed itself to him.

And then heard the archway grinding its way back into solid wall, blacking out the little slivers of sunlight that had managed to cut through the gloom.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me out again, would you?” Yuuri asked the wall, tone not holding very much hope.

No response.

_Fantastic._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for how late this is. Real life has been too real lately. Good news, though! After about a hundred rewrites of this chapter, I finally made it work with how I want the rest of the story to go! So, progress. 
> 
> Not much action in this chapter, but there will be a lot more in the future. The Victor/Yuuri interactions will be spread out for a bit, but I promise I have big plans for the two of them! 
> 
> The next update should actually be available in a week or two. Spring break is next week and I have a twelve hour car ride to look forward to, so I'll probably be doing a lot of my writing then. Thanks for your feedback and your patience, guys!
> 
> If you want to yell at me about plotlines or updates, feel free to message me here or on [my Tumblr! ](http://autumnangelwrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
> P.S. I'm so sorry about all the updates, AO3 really hates me today!


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